The Storm
by Broken-Jedi
Summary: A remake of Storm's story. Geonosis, through the eyes of a trooper. Cover art by Khrysaetos on deviantart.


**Kamino_ 6 years before the outbreak of the Clone Wars**

 _"Unit 5017? Come here please." the gentle, fluting voice of a Kaminoan calling you out by your number, or anything else for that matter, was never a good thing. They never, ever had good intentions when they singled you out like that. I don't care how peaceful others may think those voices sound. They are all rabid perfectionists, dangerous, cold, and experimental. It's amazing any of us are as sane as we are today.  
Four standard years old, eight biological, and I followed that gray, tall alien to my own detriment, to my own doom. My defect, fear. And they simply wanted to test their newly developed tech for reconditioning a trooper. Harsh lights, then darkness, needles, straps, metal tables; "It's for your own good. You're doing this for your brothers…."  
I returned from that experience, a shell of the trooper I had once been. I cannot even describe the pain, and the horror I was put through back there. Force help anyone who makes me go within a thousand klicks of that place ever again. I will never set foot on Kamino alive. _

**Battle of Geonosis**

War is not glory, it's not. Being a soldier isn't about being a hero. Heroics get you killed; they get those around you killed. You follow orders, or you die. And if you don't die, your brothers might die. There's always someone out there who thinks they know better than you. And in this case, it was the Jedi. We were taught; no conditioned, to follow their every whim, every order to the letter. Jedi don't know the first _kriffing_ thing about battles. If the clone officers had been allowed to operate on their own and properly command their units, this battle would have been a lot less bloody. The Holonet News called it a " _glorious victory_ ". Lies, nothing but lies, spoon-fed to the ignorant masses of oblivious civilians. Battle is not glorious.  
I learned that day, the only people in this harsh galaxy that you can rely on are your brothers. But, that's hard when the ignorance of others brings down their destruction. It happened like this…..  
I was one of a company of 144 battle-ready clone troopers. We were supposed to be, according to first orders, deployed with two other companies of infantry soldiers to work with the Jedi in a full on assault. But instead, our general changed his plan at the last minute, sending us into the thickest side of the fighting; _alone_. We were supposed to take out the gunners and heavy artillery in the canyons to the left flank. But, instead, we were pretty much dropped off in a kill-zone, a boxed in canyon with no escape and no backup. My team was slaughtered. We didn't have the men, or the arms to go against that many heavy droids. Our commander rallied us for one last push, when he was cut down. And with our last medic incapacitated by explosive shrapnel, there was no way the rest of us had a chance. As I made my last attack, the few brothers left alive charging alongside me, I was suddenly blindsided.  
" _Storm! Look out-_ " the shout of warning came seconds too late, I turned and the whole left side of my face and chest exploded into blinding, white hot pain. I couldn't see, Everything was blurry and red. My ears were ringing and I felt hot, sticky liquid running down my face. Burning grit and dust was getting blown into my face, which could only mean I'd gotten my _kriffing_ bucket blasted off. Slowly, the red began to fade from my vision, but everything was dark and fuzzy. My face and chest felt like they were on fire. Horrible cries echoed all around me and it took me a moment to realize that some of those awful cries were my own. Groans, strangled sobs, and whimpers came at me from all sides, brothers crying out in agony as they died. I tried calling for help, but my voice seemed to be broken. What was left to help anyways? I knew I was dying.  
In my next moment of consciousness, I realized I was no longer laying on a battlefield dying, but in a medical area. Surrounded by nothing but stark white walls. I sat up, bolt upright, pulse racing as I thought I realized where I was. I had to be on _Kamino_! The pain of my wounds didn't even register. All I could think was that I had to get up and get out.  
"Whoa, settle down. Easy soldier. You're okay."  
The voice was female, and unfamiliar. It was soothing, and gentle, but in an entirely different way than a Kaminoan's voice. It took me a moment to calm and focus. The whole left side of my face was bandaged, even covering over my eye. The being who had spoken to me was indeed a female, and one of a species I did not recognize.  
"It's okay." she soothed again. "You're safe and sound now."  
"My brothers?" my voice was terribly raspy and it felt like I had swallowed half the dust from Geonosis. "Are they okay?" I was afraid to ask. I wasn't even sure how I had survived, let alone anyone else.  
"There are only a few left, we saved as many as we could. There's one who's not going to make it though." she looked genuinely upset.  
"I want to see him." I was firm about it. It wasn't a request.  
She looked surprised, and a bit concerned, but, oddly enough, she accepted and allowed me to get up. I was off balance and horribly unsteady, and now in pain. The female, a Jedi, I now realized, reached out to help. A Jedi. I should have known.  
" _Don't_. Don't touch me." I growled. I didn't want any help from a Jedi.  
She quickly pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry. I should have asked first…." she left it hanging like a question; she wanted to know my name.  
Though I was reluctant, and paused for a moment to think, I finally allowed her to know. " _Storm_."


End file.
